Chapter Thirty-One
It had been a few days since the truce had been called and things seemed peaceful for the time being. Everybody seemed relaxed, except Lee. It was more than his usual sombre, quiet self. Something was bothering him and Kelley knew Mason was itching to find out what it was. He’d been broody for a few days now and pacing up and down whenever they met up.
“What’s going on with you?” Mason had had enough of Lee’s mood swings now.
“Nothing.”
Kelley taped a box shut and turned to look at Lee. “Lee, come on, it’s us. If you can’t talk to us then who can you talk to?”
“Steve Jones is getting out of jail next week …”
Kelley looked up at Lee with the tape roller still in his hand. “Who’s he?”
“He’s the man who turned himself in so he could save me.” Lee’s jaw clenched and Kelley put the tape down on the closed box.
“How can we help, Lee?”
Mason stepped closer to them and Lee swallowed his emotion away, his eyes betraying nothing. “I feel like I have to do something for him.”
Mason clasped a hand on Lee’s shoulder. “I get that … have you gone to visit him?”
“No. He’s in jail because of me.”
Kelley shook his head. “He’s in jail because he did the right thing. Why don’t we drive over to Marshall Bay after work and you go visit him, and find out if there’s anything he needs.”
"It's the least I can do, right?"
With a plan in mind, they got back to work for the next three hours. Kelley couldn’t wait to get the cast off his wrist and start rehab. He’d missed the whole football season and an athletic scholarship was surely off the table now. Regret laced his thoughts because football had been a way to go to college.
The drive to Marshall Bay took just over an hour and they stopped for breakfast at a diner. At seven am they pulled up to the prison located just outside of Marshall Bay’s town borders and Lee looked at the large buildings in front of him.
“I’m not sure about this.”
Mason took a breath and exhaled slowly. “Lee, he did save your life, the least you can do is go in there and say thank you. We’ll be here, take as long as you need.”
Lee nodded his head but didn’t say another word. He got out of Mason’s truck and followed the small group of people heading towards the administration building to sign in. He shuffled forward in line and then it was his turn.
The guard behind the clear plastic divider looked bored, sweaty and overweight. “Name?”
“Lee Munroe.”
“Prisoner name?”
“Steve Jones.”
The guard looked up once and took Lee’s identity card and handed him a visitor badge. “No touching, no food, no gifts.”
Lee nodded his head and followed the group to another building and another guard scanned their visitor cards before they entered a large room filled with tables. Lee sat down uncomfortably, his legs a little too long for the chair. The room was stark, the walls painted an odd type of beige. The tables and chairs were bolted to the floor and warning signs with the rules were fixed to the walls. The guards in the visitation room all had their hands on their batons and Lee wondered briefly how many times a week they had to use them.
He had changed a lot from the small boy locked in that cage. He now stood at six foot seven inches tall with a bulk of two hundred and fifteen pounds. That small, malnourished little boy had grown up into a big, tall young man.
Steve Jones walked into the room with the other prisoners and he looked around with a frown on his face. Lee recognized him immediately and he stood up. “Mr Jones.”
Steve looked at Lee but couldn’t place him. He had no idea who the young man in front of him was. Steve walked to the table and sat down opposite Lee. “You’re my visitor? Who are you?”
“My name’s Lee Munroe, I’m that boy in the cage you saved.”
Steve’s face transformed from a frown to a smile as his eyes raked over Lee. “You sure grew up.”
“I never said thank you … what you did for me ... you saved my life.”
Steve waved his hand in front of his face while shaking his head. “No kid, you don’t owe me a thank you. I’m in here because of the shit I did, going to the cops that night … it was the one good thing I did in my life.”
“What are your plans when you get out of here next week?”
“Halfway house probably, look for a job and try not to violate my parole.” Steve smiled and Lee had a hard time believing that this man was a hardened criminal.
“I’d like to help if I can.”
“How’s your life, kid? Where did you end up?”
“My uncle and his wife adopted me, they had no idea what was going on. I live with them in Yorkdare Bay with my two cousins. I’m in my senior year, play football and I have two best friends.”
“No more abuse?”
“They’re good people.”
“Then that’s all the thanks I need. Live your life to the fullest and don’t let your past define you. You’re not that little boy anymore and you never have to be him again.”
Lee slid a piece of paper over the table towards Steve. “That’s my number. Call me if you ever need anything. I owe you my life.”
“One word of advice, kid, never say that to anyone, they’ll take advantage of that.”
A buzzer sounded in the room and Steve stood up, tucking the piece of paper into his pocket. “Do you need anything? Money for the snack room?”
“I’m doing okay, Lee Munroe, take care of yourself.”
Lee stood next to the table and watched as Steve Jones walked out into a hallway and disappeared from view as he headed back to his jail cell. Little did he know that Steve Jones would not walk out of that prison the following week. The guards would find Steve's body in the early hours of the morning, stab wounds littering his abdomen and a pool of blood below him.
